


Cooking is Not Your Forte

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bad Cooking, Cooking, M/M, Moreid, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Cooking is Not Your Forte

They were almost there - that point where Spencer could meet Derek’s mother again, this time in the context of a relationship, but they weren’t there just yet, so as Derek neared home after a week away to visit his mother, Spencer stood at the stove, desperate to put together something serviceable for dinner. 

Spencer had an IQ of 187. He could read 20,000 per minute. He had three Ph.D.s. Yet everything that he tried to do fucked up the meal further and further until he’d given up and started from scratch. As he searched the refrigerator for something to make into a meal, he pulled out his phone and texted his boyfriend of four months.

S: Plane touch down yet? I’ve missed you.

D: Aww, pretty boy. I never knew I meant so much to you.

S: Of course you mean a lot to me, you idiot. :P Did you touch down?

D: About 10 minutes ago. Should be home in 30.

S: I like that.

D: Like what, Pretty Ricky?

S: Home. You said home. We live together. I like that you’re coming home.

D: Me too, Pretty Boy. See you soon.

Finally, he decided on something quick and easy. Chicken cutlet with pasta. Pasta was pretty un-fuck-upable, but when it came to the chicken, he could easily fuck it up. It didn’t really matter. He’d do the best he could and if it was truly horrible then they could order pizza. Then again he hated not being good at something. He was good at everything basically. He could cook, right?

By the time Derek got home, Spencer had put chicken on the table and some pasta in a bowl. “Hey,” Spencer said sleepily while Derek closed the door. He walked up to his boyfriend and and pressed a kiss to his lips. They sunk into each other but were soon interrupted by the sound of someone’s stomach growling. “Who was that?” Spencer laughed. “Whose body is eating itself?”

A rumble came once again from someone’s stomach - Derek’s apparently. “Woah, I am hungry.” He inhaled and caught the scent of pasta with oil and garlic, as well as some grilled chicken, which was originally going to be fried, but he couldn’t find any breading for it. “You made dinner? You do love me.”

“That I do,” Spencer said. 

With a nod, they both sat down to eat. Spencer started with pasta, not really paying attention to Derek as he cut through the tough chicken and attempted to eat it; it was dryer than holy hell, but Spencer had tried and he didn’t want to hurt his feeling so he choked it down. Not a word was said, which was weird for the two of them. “The chicken is awful isn’t it?” Spencer asked, smiling into his plate before looking up at his boyfriend.

Derek took a deep breath and laughed. “Reid, I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner…for all your genius, you suck at it.”

Spencer snorted and pulled out his phone. ”I’m sorry. I tried! I have an IQ of 187 and I can’t cook. What is wrong with me?”

“Despite what people have told you, babe…” Derek replied, taking a deep breath. “You cannot be good at everything.”

Spencer pouted and waved his phone towards Derek. “Pizza?”

“Yes please,” he said, opening his mouth and dramatically letting the dry chicken fall out of his mouth. “I’ll eat some pasta in the meantime. That’s good.”

“At least I can do that.” 

After calling for pizza, Spencer and Derek decided to sit on the couch, Spencer’s head in Derek’s lap while they talked about his visit with his mother. “She does know about us, right?”

“Of course she does. She wants to meet you.” Considering Derek no longer had hair, he enjoyed playing with his boyfriend’s hair, his slightly-calloused fingers running through Reid’s light brown, curly hair.

Spencer reveled in the feeling of having someone play with his hair. He could easily fall asleep like this. “She’s already met me,” he laughed; he knew what she meant anyway.

“It’s different now. I never imagined myself in love with a man, and neither did my family, but they already loved you, and I think they will even more now.” A knock on the door interrupted the nice little moment, but Derek’s stomach was still growling and it was time for food. With pizza in hand, they both returned to the couch. Spencer sat on one side, his legs crossed and resting in Derek’s lap. “Mmm…now this is delicious.”

“Hey, my feelings.”

“Babe, I love you, but cooking is not your forte.”

Spencer really hated not being good at everything he tried instantly. It was one of his issues. “Maybe it can be,” he smiled widely. “If I practice all the time.”

The idea of eating Spencer’s dry food day after day made Derek a little bit sad. “I will eat one meal of yours a week. Any more than that and I think my stomach might rebel against me.”

“If I had yogurt or whipped cream or something right now, I would absolutely flick it at you.” Spencer was tempted to peel a piece of pepperoni of his pizza and chuck it into Derek’s face.

“That’s not practicing,” Derek laughed.

“I will kill you.”

“Try me, Pretty Boy.”


End file.
